Book of the Dead
by Needless Noodles
Summary: Not quite abandoned. Re-written under Broken Pedestal. A story involving Severus Snape, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy. Post Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Secret Lies/Book of the Dead  
by:  
Dreams 'N Demise a.k.a. Needless Noodles

Prologue: End theme

o . o . o.0.o . o . o

He walked away from Narcissa Malfoy intent on heading home before he cursed something to death. Of course, he just might do that anyway. Maybe he just didn't want to go to Azkaban for killing the blond wench whose name said all you needed to know about her. Either way, Severus Anzori Snape had to get out o f there. He'd keep the oath Narcissa had him make this time; and only because Draco's life was at stake. No matter how much Severus loathed the Malfoys he couldn't–wouldn't– let Draco get sacrificed for the mistakes (or maybe it was just the idiocy) of the previous generation.

After seeing Narcissa and her equally annoying and demented sister, Bellatrix, out the front door he brought the wards back up around the little house. He wasn't there very often; the walls held too many of the less wanted memories of his childhood. Besides, as was proven by his earlier visitors, anyone in the Wizarding world could find the place. The sooner he left Spinner's End, the better.

Snape made his way back through the small and cramped sitting room to get to the stairs. He bypassed the first door, not even thinking of the fact that it was bigger than the room he claimed as his own. Severus never bothered with the room. He simply kept the door closed and kept the memories of his father locked with it.

Walking into his room he pushed the door closed behind him. Ignoring the book that fell off the book case that was hung on the back of door, Severus gathered what little belongings he brought with him and disapparated. Appearing in a nondescript alley a few blocks from the Leaky Cauldron he stepped out into the streets of muggle London, making his way to the aforementioned building.

He stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, taking out a small pouch of floo powder, and flooed to Hogwarts. Not really desiring a lengthy, riddle filled conversation with Dumbledore he announced his plans of leaving for his home while stepping out of the fireplace. Dumbledore looked as if he wanted to object. Though not quite understanding why the younger man would be returning to a place he'd just left, Dumbledore decided he'd just leave things as were. He simply smiled knowingly and wrung a promise from Severus to continue with an investigation for the Order and to fulfill his duty to Poppy (replenishing several potions for the matron).

"That was easier than expected," Severus murmured to himself as he headed for his quarters in the Dungeons. "Everything with the Potter brat must be finally getting to the old man."

His mind was steadily on the thought of going home. He'd only been back a hand full of times since Potter's first year. In his opinion, not quite enough escape time from bubbly, old fools and cranky, fire breathing matrons; not to mention all of the dunderheaded brats, idiotic ministry officials, mangy mutts, bloody werewolves, and bloodthirsty Death Eaters.

That's why he was rushing through the empty, summer warmed halls so that he could pack the last few essentials; such as lesson plans to revise, new and old potion ingredients for refilling, notes and a few personal items that needed to kept away from prying eyes. Even with Hogwarts being the acclaimed 'safest' place in Britain, there were some items that Severus didn't even consider it safe to leave without his continued presence. Especially in the unrestricted presence of Albus Dumbledore.

The old coot couldn't know everything.

— — – — — – — — – — —

Severus stepped out the fire place in an abandoned flat somewhere in muggle New York. From there, he apparated to his home outside Salt Lake City, Utah. As soon as Severus disapparated into his bedroom he quickly emptied his pockets of previously shrunken objects. Thoughtlessly throwing them on the bed– later finding himself glad of the protection and unbreakable charms he'd placed on his things– he hurriedly divested himself of his robes and emerged from his room in black slacks and his white button-up shirt.

One would wonder what would make the great potions master carelessly rush from his room. Severus had no care in what he looked like stumping down the stairs, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he went. The muffled sounds that floated up from the family-room at the back of the house was more than enough to make him descend the stairs like a bat out of hell.

Upon entering the room Severus announced his presence with a dark and menacing, "What is going on here?". He took a moment to look around. It was a normal enough room for a typical muggle/magical family. There were pictures– all unmoving– a large screen tv, book shelves built onto the same wall as the entrance way. To the right there was a long sofa that curved around to face the fireplace on the far wall, old wizardly paintings, and enchanted items and nick-knacks. The dark brown coffee table between the longer end of the couch and the tv doubled as seating--four small ottomans could be pulled from under it.

Severus sneered at the design of the room. Everything on the ground floor was muggle friendly and he– of course– had no say or input in the decorating of the room. But it was alright with him; he wasn't the one whom had to live there twenty-four-seven. Though, there was one framed photo that his eyes were drawn to when ever he even passed by the room on the way to the basement through the kitchen. It hung over the fireplace on the far wall. The photo was a larger version of the one he kept in his room wherever he was staying for long periods of time. It was the only photo within public viewing of him with his family. A family he'd been successful in keeping hidden from the Wizarding world.

"Well?" He arched an eyebrow at the group of five teenagers. They always seemed to be the bane of his existence. "I am waiting for your answer," he drawled.

"Uhm, well," one of the three boys started. "We were just watching a movie."

The other eyebrow joined the first just as the voice of a woman called out "You okay, baby?". "I can see that, Mister. . ." He trailed off, clearly asking for the teen's name, ignoring the movie playing in the background.

"Talvin. John Talvin." He sounded like some half baked rendition of a 'James Bond' film.

One of the other two boys suddenly stood. Severus thought that perhaps he'd seen this young man before. He didn't bother with trying to remember and just focused on intimidating the youngsters.

"I guess we should get going," the second boy announced. "Goodnight, sir." He dragged his two male companions into standing.

Severus eyed him curiously. He was tall, muscular, and black. Unlike the first boy, who was of average height, light brown hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. He'd only personally knew a few black men in his life; Kingsley being the only one that he'd kept in contact with, and that was only because they both worked for the Order.

"Goodnight?" Severus asked sarcastically. He flipped his wrist with over dramatic flare to look at his watch. The display read a little after 4 a.m. "I'd say, rather, that it's morning and would be a better one once you remove yourselves from the premises." He watched the boys went pale and then ran for the door, their female companion lagging behind long enough to smile coyly at Severus. His sneer widened in return.

There was one teen left whom walked casually up to Severus. As she started to pass, Severus grabbed her upper arm and harshly turned her to face him. "We will talk later. For now, see to your guests," he spat the last word like Malfoy would say mudblood. "I'll be in my lab. Do not disturb me." He watched as the darkly tanned skin girl walked down the hall and disappeared in the foyer.

Before leaving through the kitchen to head to his lab in the basement, Severus took another look at the picture over the fireplace. There, in living color, was the reason he had originally stayed away: a beautiful wife of-- literally– African decent that he'd kept secret from all but her surviving family and dim-witted muggles.

She had creamy skin the color of the Sahara desert for which she was named after, thick black hair that fell just passed her shoulders, a smile that captured the cruelest of hearts (Severus being prime example), and hazel eyes that would pierce through his soul better than any leginimens or veritaserum. Even with her death being a little over six years ago, any picture of Sahar pained him almost as much as the cruciatus.

Severus looked away from the image of 'his' Sahar, eyes passing to the younger version of the girl he'd just dismissed. She looked just like her mother, even with her long, curly hair that fell to her waist. Severus supposed that had to be from having a mixed heritage. The only thing she had of Severus was his habits and mannerisms. She could imitate him without fault. The little one in her arms was no more than two then and was even more like Severus that it was scary. Even at that age she knew how to smirk as well as him.

The twin boys standing before Severus (who was just slightly behind Sahar) could have easily been his clones if it were not for the fact that one had brown eyes and both had their mother's nose. In fact all five children had Sahar's nose. Of course that could have been for the fact that neither of those children had their nose broken repeatedly at a young age. His youngest son was even more withdrawn than even Snape was at the tender age of five. His brown eyes smiled just as much as his lips, but he was a quiet one that would rather be alone reading some book– taking in as much knowledge as his little brain could.

He turned away from the room and headed for his lab. There were things in the present and planned to happen in the near future that his mind needed to concentrate on, rather than the unchangeable past.

o . o . o.0.o . o . o

It was four hours later that found a fully risen sun and a slightly taxed Severus Snape. He was sitting at the rectangular kitchen table reading– of all things– a Laurell K. Hamilton novel (Obsidian Butterfly). There was something about the sadistic tendencies the woman incorporated into her books that intrigued Severus. Perhaps it was how unintelligent the victims in the story always seemed to be, or, rather, how much he could see Anita–the main character–as the female counterpart of himself. No matter what it was, it was a great rendition of some of his views on muggles anyway.

Just as he stood to refill his mug of tea a whirlwind of color raced into the kitchen headed straight for the fridge. Severus watched a couple paces behind as the short little girl took out a carton of juice, opened it and as she turned around she put it up to her lips. Severus waited as she took a sip before loudly clearing his throat. The girl jumped back into the fridge and spluttered. She sprayed Severus with the juice as she choked on it.

With a light sneer in his voice Severus responded sarcastically, "I do so hope that you do this regularly. I love having a morning shower of orange juice."

Recovering, the girl smiled up at Severus, black onyx eyes meeting black onyx eyes. "Er, well, sorry," she whispered, indicating the mess she'd made of his shirt. Orange juice usually stained anything white. "I wasn't expecting you back yet. . ." she trailed off at the shake of his head. "So, how long are you here this time?" the hope and anticipation could be clearly heard in her voice.

Severus internally winced at her question. It was perfectly valid. Though he was very well aware of how little he came home these days, he couldn't lie to himself and say that her hidden rebuke didn't hurt—somewhere, deep within.

"A week before the first." He knew she would understand that he meant a week before the first of September--as that was when the school term at Hogwarts began. And as her face lit up with the news of having her father home for nearly two months, he knew he would have to dash those hopes almost completely. "Though, I shall have to be gone from now and then. No more than two or three days at a time."

The girl simply nodded, her silky black hair falling from its loose tie into her face. As she was leaving—Severus assumed to head back up the stairs—he called out to her, "Alice, wake the others while you're up there." He could tell that she was rolling her eyes from the way she stumped up the stairs.

What am I going to do with her? She's too much like me. He ran a hand over his face and through his still greasy, black, shoulder length locks. Severus knew that he was doing what ever he could to keep her from turning out like him, for any of them. But having them had changed him somewhat. He knew what unconditional love was, even if it was still rather hard for him to show it, because of his children. He would even go as far as saying that he could be compassionate. There were times when he would almost feel sorry even for Potter.

Dear Salazar, that boy doesn't need anyone else fawning over him. I know that I shouldn't treat him as I do just because of James-bloody-Potter, but it's hard when the brat is the spitting image--carbon copy--of the bloody man. And Dumbledore isn't helping at all, treating the boy like he did the sire. He wants me to be civil to him, has come to expect it from most. And they wonder why I won't comply with that and kiss up to the all-mighty-golden-boy-Potter, he spat in his mind. Though he may hate the attention it's something he's gotten use to and to have done that will eventually lead to his already oversized ego. I will not contribute to that sort of downfall. Those pitiful excuses for even muggles did one thing right while having him as a charge: not being nice to the boy.

His thoughts were interrupted with the sudden appearance of five bodies. He looked at each of them, all but one smiling. Then they all started talking at once. He rubbed his temples, wincing at the oncoming headache. As they got loader, each of the four talking trying to be heard over the other, Severus couldn't help but think that perhaps a warning of when he would be returning was in order. Or just return more often. He smirked to himself. The thought of more exposure to such cacophony was blasphemous.

The oldest of the five berating him smiled knowingly as Severus let out a growl and murmured under his breath, "Stop your infernal blabbering." He looked up just in time to see the older girl roll her eyes. The other four caught on, having seen the flash in his eyes, and quickly quieted down. "Ah, so much better," Severus mumbled.

After getting everyone settled, Severus took his seat and as he listened to each of his children take turns on explaining what had passed in the last several months since his last visit he let his mind wander.

His first thoughts were on how ridiculous his children were named. Though Sahar had named the oldest after herself– her full name being Sahar Arrakis– she had decidedly put some of Severus into the name as well. They'd finally settled on Arrakis Gennavehn-Eileen Prince. The hyphenated middle name, of course, wasn't his idea. Neither was naming the baby after a star. (It reminded he too much of Sirius Black, and that was never a good thing.) He just called her El instead, after his mother–the only other person in his life to love him unconditionally.

Then there were the twins. Sahar just had to keep with the constellation theme and gave the boys the names Saiph and Eltanin– after some barely known stars. Severus opted to go slightly Greek and Hebrew with Marcus-Aurelius and Zachirus as middle names.

When his youngest son was born Severus argued for hours throughout the pregnancy and well after the birth over what to call the baby. Three months had passed before they named him. Severus still scowled at the boy's first name. Who would burden a child with the name Irihi? Thank Salazar she didn't put up a fuss with 'Sean' as the middle name. I'd call him 'boy' if it were anything else.

Then there was his baby girl, Safaia Alice Prince. Now, he would never refer to her as such, his 'baby girl' that is. But the name Safaia was the only 'heavenly' name that he liked. It reminded him of the stories his mother use to tell him of his great grandmother, Safaia Elenor Prince.

Severus smirked internally as he placed his elbow on the table and rested his head on his fist. It was a blatant disregard to the hard learned manors his uncle use to beat into him. He was even playing with his cooling tea. Half listening to his children argue over some trifle thing or other he let his mind wander to other things, more important things. Like the things already set in motion that he had no control over. He could not predict nor stop what was to come. People would surely die and he more than likely one of them.

What would happen to his family if he were to never come back; never write another letter to them? As much as he hated to admit it– even to himself– they were all he had left. He knew he couldn't die, not only was his family's emotional well being (not that he cared much for  
that) were at stake, but Draco's, his godson's life was in the balance. He was fighting for too many people, and if it meant helping out another Potter, then so be it.

o . o . o.0.o . o . o

The fallowing weeks passed in a blur. Severus spent Mondays tinkering with his potions. Sometimes Alice would watch or even help out. Other than Sean and Alice none of his other children expressed such dedication to his specialized art. Instead he would spend Tuesdays and Thursdays training the three in duelling. He taught them offensive magic–having taught them defensive already– now that they were coming of age. He spent part of Wednesdays teaching Sean defensive magic and going over the basics with Alice.

He had hope that they would never have to make use the knowledge he fed them, but instinctively knew that they would face magical foes at some point in their lives. The death of their mother was proof of that.

For three weeks Severus would disappear on Friday and would show back up on Monday mornings or late Sunday night. Sometimes he would be battered and bruised and always in a terrible mood. The children quickly learned to give him a wide berth on those days.

It was the week of July that they met with any significant change. Their routine had shifted to where Severus was gone only on Tuesdays and he always came back irritable at best and in a foul mood at worse. The children found themselves glad that at least he wasn't coming home looking like he walked straight out of a brawl. Severus had taught them enough about 'his' world that they knew and understood why he had to leave for long periods of time. He left enough books lying around for them to know most of the Wizarding world's history.

They were having a late dinner Wednesday night when it happened. Severus was summoned. His dark mark flared suddenly sending burning, white pain up and down his left arm. His fork dropped halfway to his mouth and he jerked so quickly to grab his arm in a feeble attempt at trying to stop the pain that he knocked over his glass of wine. His plate clattered to the floor when his elbow bumped into it in his haste to leave the room.

None of the children knew what was wrong. They had never witnessed their father acting in such a way before. Whatever had their father racing from the room with a grimace of pain bringing wrinkles to his eyes had to serious.

It wasn't until Severus had stomped back up the stairs from his lab in the basement did the oldest of the siblings make a move.

"Arra," Severus said once he saw her stand. Using his shortened version of her first name let them all know he was being deadly serious. "Stay where you are. Finish you dinner," he directed to them all. "Do not wait up for me. I must leave, but I shall be back." He wasn't too confidant about that. The mark had never burned like that before. Except for the night Voldemort was reborn. It could only mean one thing: Voldemort was pissed.

Severus could only think of one thing. Please don't let this be the end, he kept repeating over and over silently.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Severus stepped out of the fireplace in an abandoned flat somewhere in muggle Chicago, Illinois. From there he apparated to his home in Salt Lake City, Utah. He appeared in a shed that was on the property. It was unused, except by Snape, and housed a hidden door in the back. The door connected to the attic in the house that was farther on the land. It worked much like many of the secret passages through out Hogwarts.

Though, Hogwarts was far from Severus' mind. The time difference between Europe and Mountain time in North America was such an extreme variation that Severus felt as if he'd travelled backwards through it.

Speaking of time. . .

Severus looked at the clock on the wall. He was now standing before his bedroom door, poised ready to enter. It was 4 a.m. and through the clear face of the sun shaped clock he could see storm clouds. The clouds made the night eerily dark. The sky looked purple and lightening illuminated the clouds randomly. He could hear thunder over the ticking of the second hand and the rain had yet to fall. The weather very nearly matched his mood.

There was a break in the cloud coverage as he stood there glancing at it. The light of the waning full moon spilt over Severus. Darting into his room he quickly emptied his pockets of the previously shrunken objects. He thoughtlessly threw them on the bed--later finding himself grateful for the protection and unbreakable charms he'd placed on his things before hand. He hurriedly divested himself of his robes and emerged from his room in black slacks and his white button-up shirt.

He berated himself for forgetting the monthly healing brew for the dratted Werewolf. "If things keep going the way they are, I'll kill those witches," he snarled.

Snape's makeshift potions lab was in the basement of the two-story, earth sheltered, Tudor style house(1). With the house being built into the rock-face of the land the basement was given a dungeon like appearance that gave Snape the feeling of being back in Hogwarts. He had to make his way down the stairs to the ground floor of the house. On his way to the kitchen to get to the basement door he had to pass by the family room. It was there his attention was drawn, causing him to come to a stop.

The design of the room made him sneer. Everything on the ground floor was muggle friendly and he--of course-- had no say in the decoration. Though there was one framed photo sitting on the mantle above the fireplace that his eyes immediately traveled to. It was the only photo of him within public viewing. There were others in the picture with him; his family. A family that he'd been successful in hiding from the wizarding world thus far.

He took a closer look at the picture, focusing entirely on it that the rest of his surroundings were completely forgotten. It was there, in vibrant colours, the reason he'd been avoiding coming home for nearly a year. Snape's eyes focused on the slightly smiling woman in the picture. His hands rested on her shoulders, seeming to hold him in place since he didn't fit the sunny scenery with his black robes and indifferent expression. The picture had been taken under a large weeping willow before a beautiful expanse of blue lake. It was the last time he'd joined his little family on a holiday.

The woman was still beautiful even to him. She had been his wife, a talented witch whose family dated back to the first Pharaohs of Egypt. Snape had kept his union with her a secret from all but her surviving family and the muggles she had to deal with on a daily basis. He had always feared the news getting back to wizarding Britain.

Her name was Sahaar. She had creamy skin the colour of the Sahara desert, thick black hair that fell just passed her shoulders, a captivating yet tricky smile, and green eyes that could pierce through his very soul and see the truth--his secrets-- better than any legilimens or veritaserum. Her eyes reminded him of Lily Evens (he refused to see her as a Potter); they were both intelligent and of a shade rarely ever seen. He had their deaths on his hands.

He looked away from her, his eyes traveling to another face in the picture. It was a young girl that looked just like Sahaar, even with her curly hair. Severus supposed it had to be from having a mixed heritage. The only thing Genna got from Snape was his snarky attitude and dark habits. Just as he, Genna wasn't smiling. She was the oldest of the other children in the frame. Marcus and Aurelius, the twins, looked as though they could be Snape's clones had it not been for the wide smiles and playful attitude they exuded. He remembered how they had been picking on Genna, the cause of her folded arms and frown.

There were times when Snape liked to believe that the 'happy' little family ended there. It wasn't that the youngest two were snot nosed brats--they were just the opposite. It was simply the fact that being the legal guardian and sire of five children was a strain on a man who shouldn't even have one. Sean and Alice were the youngest of his bunch. They both had the same smile as their mother and were less of a hassle to deal with than the first three.

Snape considered himself to be an above average intelligent man, though, he couldn't help the thought that the countless imbeciles he was surrounded by rubbed off on him. To have had a number of children that almost rivaled the Weasleys was not his idea of _smart._ He knew where the fault lied; Sahaar was cunning enough for any natural born Slytherin since she'd managed to outsmart Snape in giving him child after child.

He snorted. Sahaar never let him forget that he enjoyed being a father when he had the time to be there. But now wasn't the time to reminisce.

He turned away from the room, continuing on his way to the lab. There were things in the present and planed to happen in the near future that took precedent.

* * *

Harry sat on the stairs, listening to what parts of the news broadcast floated up to him. The Dursleys were seated on the couch watching, content to ignore the 'freak's' very existence. Harry didn't mind not being in the same room as them, he just wanted to hear the news. Ever since he'd gotten back at the end of the school year things had been different. Moody and the others had given Uncle Vernon a warning, simultaneously informing the man that his godfather--Sirius-- was dead. He wished they hadn't done that, then perhaps he'd have some chance to fully appreciate the effect of the Order's threat.

As it stood now, he was left to his own devices for the most part, yet every now and then Vernon or Dudely would say certain things loader than necessary. They would say rude things about Sirius and Harry's parents. Had the Dursleys been brave enough to say such negative things in-front of him, Harry was sure they would have been blown up like Aunt Marge had in third year.

He sighed. The news casters had just finished a story on yet another incident in Egypt. He thought how lucky it was that Bill had stopped working on the Pyramids last year. He wasn't sure if the murders in Egypt had anything to do with Voldemort. He'd tried asking in one of the letters he sent the Order regularly, but no one knew. He wondered if maybe it was just a coincident, or if some random muggle set off one of the old curse traps.

Well, whatever it was, he was giving up on it for the time being. Deciding to get an early start on another long and sleepless night filled with nightmares, Harry stood as quietly as he could, so as not to 'disturb' the Dursleys, and made his way up the steps to his room. He really should have tried harder to learn occulmency.

* * *

Severus had come back home sometime before dawn and went straight for his bed after taking a healing potion and sleeping drat. After the Death Eater meeting he had gone immediately to Dumbledore, hoping to prevent the inevitable for just a little bit longer.

He first informed the man of his progress on the mission and asked to be removed from it. Dumbledore readily agreed. He then told the Headmaster of the unbreakable oath that Narcissa forced him into. Though Dumbledore's twinkle had all but diminished he expressed his thoughts on believing there was another way around it.

Finally, Severus explained to Dumbledore the true reason for his visit: the Death Eater meeting. On the rare occasion that Voldemort was content enough, some of his followers would relatively leave unscathed. This was not one of those times. Though Severus was one of the 'lucky' few to not to have endured more than one extended round of the cruciatus he still had it rather worse.

From the moment that Severus had felt the mark burn he knew something was wrong. He'd grabbed his cloak and mask and apparated to the site as soon as he possibly could. He was late, having come all the way from the states, and was sure he had a punishment coming.

He wasn't wrong. For it wasn't a normal meeting. Only those of the 'Inner Circle' were lined in a semi-circle before Voldemort.

Though he couldn't be sure of exactly what he had coming, he knew to act fast. He apologized profusely for being late after paying his 'respect' to 'his lord' and then proceeded to step back in line with the others.

Voldemort had different plans. He jumped from his dais and seemed to be headed right for Snape. Severus quickly employed every olccumency trick he had; and with good measure as well.

Voldemort had grabbed Severus forcefully by the neck and started to squeeze. Severus tried to ignore the pain, the burning in his lungs as every breath was denied him. It wasn't until Voldemort started to question him had he any clue to what was happening."Tell me, my black snake, why were you late?" he asked, vile spittle from the inhuman, snake-like mouth landing on Severus' cheek. He squeezed just a little more before loosening enough for Severus to take in a gulp of air and answer.

He chocked out a reply. "Dumbledore– had a meeting– refused to let me go–early.""Anything of use," Voldemort said with interest."N–no, my lord. It was more of a social gathering." Severus smoothly lied. He had regained enough breath to talk normally.

Voldemort growled. There was more. "That's beside the point, Snape," Voldemort sneered. He flung Severus to the floor, nails scratching Severus' neck as he did so. "I have brought you here to inform you that there will be search, a demand of your loyalty. You see, one of you have betrayed me; one of you is a spy. Once I've found you, death shall be a pretty thing."He whipped around and with a sneer called out "Crucio!". Severus twitched on the ground, the feeling of a thousand hot needles pricking him as his muscles spasm beyond his control. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

Voldemort soon tired of Severus and then moved on to torturing one of the others. The man's screams ended with Voldemort's cry of traitor and then a quickly murmured Avada Kadavra.

. . . . . . . . . .

Severus pulled himself from his thoughts; vision clearing as his eyes opened to bring him back to the present. It was a Friday, sometime before noon. He was home alone. He had to make a decision, had to come up with something. He growled in frustration as he ran a hand over his face then through his hair. A semblance of a plan began to present itself to him.

An hour latter he was still sitting in his room--contemplating and debating on rather or not to carry out and enact his newly formed plan that very night--Severus let his eyes travel to the photo on the stand next to his bed. It was a muggle picture of his five kids. He adverted his eyes from the photo, not wanting to think of them for the time being. No, he had too much on his mind already. If he were to let his mind settle on the children in that picture he'd never go through with things that had already been finalized. He just didn't know if he could draw his 'borrowed' time out any more than what he already had. His life was set and they fit no where in it.

His gaze wondered over the simple yet lavish room. No one who 'knew' Snape would have a hard time believing that he lived there from time to time. The walls looked like rust, painted in a creamy brown and gold; the hangings over the large bay windows where a thick velvet of red and black; a four-poster bed made of a dark mahogany had black sheer hangings that went all around sat in the center of the room.

There was very little else, other than a chest at the foot of the bed, a wardrobe between the doors of the closet and master bath, and a rather large, black, leather arm chair to the side of the brick fireplace that was built into the wall across from the windows.

Severus got out of bed, reveling in the feel of the lush black carpet under his toes. He put on his burgundy satin robe and left the room. He still had a few hours before he had to leave.

Coming into the small kitchen, Severus made a pot of tea and some toast and set about weighing the pros and cons of what he begun calling "the decision." A knock at the door interrupted his musing. The wards around the house did not alert him to any possible danger.

'Must be a muggle' Severus thought. It was too early on a Friday morning for it to be anyone else. He started to grow rather suspicious. There were not many people who would know of his being there, especially at that time, let alone know that he would be awake. He gave himself three guesses, although he only needed cast a quick reading spell just to be sure of who it was. Silver smoke formed before him, spelling out:

'Hag'

No weapon

Angry

Sighing in exasperation Severus stood to answer the door. He was unsurprised to see an old woman with her graying black hair pulled tightly in a bun. He scowled at his dead wife's pseudo aunt. She brushed past him, anger rolling of her in nearly tangible waves. He turned to face her after silently counting to ten while closing the door.

"You listen here, young man," she said wagging 'the finger' in his face. Severus repressed the urge to snap at it and settled on looking mildly interested in what she had to say while inwardly plotting her demise.

"You will do no such thing," she continued. "You are unfit--disappearing for months at a time to god knows where doing only who knows what. You're a dark and evil bastard. I can feel in my bones. You're no good for them. No good," her voice began to rise in her anger. "I don't know why I let you carry on like this. But not this time. You will do no such THING!" She had an odd ability to know when Severus was home and planning something that would involve the kids. Even though, he words held some truth, Severus wasn't about to let her have her have her way.

The rant finally over and Severus, already feeling rather unlike himself, let his mask slip. The old woman stepped back from him, the look of malice on his face and uncovered hatred in his eyes scaring her.

"You would do well to remember what I am capable of. I do not have to listen to a damn thing that comes out of your foul, rotting mouth. Nor would I leave anything of mine in your possession." he let his voice drop to a whisper that promised death to any who would dare go against his wishes. "As of today you are no longer their guardian and have no say in what I do with them.

"Now, if you would kindly remove yourself from my presence and home perhaps I'll let you live another hour." He ended with walking away from her shivering form knowing that she would leave the house and not come back for quite some time. It was the way he liked it. Admittedly, he could end with the same results without threatening her life but it wasn't quite as fun.

He spent the rest of the morning locked in the basement--his makeshift potions laboratory--with one thing on his mind. He had to give them up. Of course he wouldn't leave them with that vile, old woman, but there was someone who he trusted enough with their care. So he went about the day as normal as possible, even though he knew it would be the last moments he would spend within the one place he could ever call home.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Permeate

o . o . o.0.o . o . o

Albus Dumbledore sat in the chair behind his desk in his office at Hogwarts. It had been six long hours since the alarms set on the wards around the school had gone off. He still wasn't sure what to make of things. The letter he had clutched in his hands arrived just half an hour before; it wasn't making things any better. He was even more confused now than he had been several hours ago.

On one hand he was happy that Voldemort couldn't make it into the castle anymore. On the other--he was extremely concerned, even afraid, for whom the message written on the crumbled parchment in his hands spoke of. He could find nothing in his memory that would lead him to suspect that the Dark Lord had learned of his spy.

Though, the letter clearly stated otherwise.

"What are we going to do, Albus?" came the soft voice of the Transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress. Dumbledore looked up into her brown eyes. "There must be something that we can do." She was nearly pleading for him to work something out.

Sighing audibly, a sign of the pressures and stress that Dumbledore was starting to feel take their toll, he reached under his silver rimmed half moon glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had to figure something out. He couldn't just leave the man there. And if he were to believe what was written in the letter, then it mattered not if he rescued the potions master.

Severus knew what he was getting into when he agreed to spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He knew that his life was even more at stake then it had been before turning spy. That didn't excuse Dumbledore from not sending him help. He was an invaluable member of the order and a dear friend, rather or not Severus would see it that way. Leaving him to die was out of the question. But. . .there was little Dumbledore could do in the way of saving the man.

He squeezed his fist, crumbling the parchment further. There had to be something he could do. His eyes staring at some point behind McGonagall's head, "Minerva, there's not much we can do at the moment. If I come up with anything, or should any other messages come along, I will inform you immediately."

McGonagall took that as the end of their mostly silent reprieve. With one final concerned look at Albus she stood and left. She was just as concerned about the young man that had once been her student--in some ways he still was. Of course, like anyone else, she had once questioned his loyalty, but only to a point. Minerva had never given up hope on him or ever turned her back. Though she never actively sought him out, to show her concern for his well being, Minerva had always kept an eye on him. She hoped Dumbledore could find a way to bring Severus home.

Dropping the letter on his desk, Dumbledore stood and rounded the desk, heading straight for his pensive. It sat in the open of the cabinet it was stored in. Stepping up to the pensive, Dumbledore looked over the edge at the memory that was already replaying in the swirling liquid.

. . .

Dumbledore had just taken his seat in the great hall for breakfast and turned to welcome Minerva back from her holiday. It seemed to be a morning like any other, if busier with the flux of Death Eater activity. As always, Hogwarts herself was simply unaffected.

That is until Dumbledore felt the tug on his magic that was tied into the wards. He looked up, concentrating on the feeling, not sure what it was that had come some suddenly without warning. He'd already pulled out his wand, had it aimed at the entrance doors when the tug on his magic became a pull then a burning ache in his mind. It wasn't just a random creature from the forbidden forest, or wayward Death Eaters looking to catch him off guard.

No. It was Voldemort himself.

Dumbledore quickly rose, hitched his robes up and set out of the hall at a run. Minerva knowing that it couldn't be anything good went after him, her wand out as well. The few other teachers that had returned to the school for the summer-holiday meeting followed after them.

Dumbledore noticed none of this. He instead was thinking to himself that he needed a quicker way to reach the castle gates. The time that it was taking to get there was just too much in such emergencies. By the time he made it to the gates he was sorely out of breath, a hitch in his side and his glasses were slightly askew. Fortunately there were no Death Eaters in sight.

As he cast a slight charm to quickly help him regain his breath, Dumbledore heard the sound that could be compared to a muggle gun shot. Someone had apparated as soon as he'd arrived within their view. Hearing the scuffling of feet as the others were catching up with him, Albus had no qualms of stepping beyond the protection of the castle wards to investigate what was taking up his immediate attention.

It was a message. That much was obvious. A howler. If the situation wasn't so dire Dumbledore would have laughed at the audacity of the Dark Lord to send him a howler. Instead, he crouched to get a better look at it, either not noticing or just ignoring Minerva and the others as they gathered around him. He was sure one of them had asked a question, and now that he was viewing the memory though his pensive he knew that it had been Professor Flitwick wondering if they should scout the area.

He was still ignoring them all and upon closer inspection as his pensive self ran through every detection spell he knew, Dumbledore noticed the already smoking, red howler was drenched in blood. He'd previously ignored it, not wanting to even think about the possibilities of what it could be. Now, he knew it definitely was blood.

The memory of Dumbledore had cast a gentle cleaning charm and once he touched the letter, it jumped up and came to 'life'.

"Dumbledore! How dare you send a pitiful half-blood to spy on me? I've always known you had someone in my mists. And now, because of you we have both lost someone more valuable than his blood suggests. Severus Snape will die because of you! Listen to him scream. . ."

Immediately after the eerie, magnified voice of Voldemort had stopped, a long, awfully pained scream resonated through the bones of those gathered. Many of the professors had covered their ears to block out the sound or their mouths to cut off their own wails.

"That was for you Albus. I now have all of your secrets. Those of you and the Order. You can't keep him from me any longer Albus. The boy will be mine!"

The howler then proceeded to rip itself into pieces then burn to ash. The present Dumbledore ignored all of this. He was peering at the blood that was on the ground. He did not take notice of it the first time. Now he stood and silently watched as Minerva opened the box that seemed to 'fade' back into existence after the howler had burned. He looked over her shoulder and immediately closed his eyes as Minerva turned and walked unsteadily back to the castle.

The box held a tongue and five fingers.

. . .

. . . Albus . . .

Dumbledore was coming out of the haze that a pensive usually left him in.

"Albus?"

He shook his head, still hearing Flitwick's voice from the memory in his head, as he stroked his long, white beard.

"Are you there, Albus?"

Dumbledore jumped, not having heard the floo call. He walked before the fireplace, bending slightly to see his caller.

"I was about to come through; you had me worried." sighed the man in the flames.

Albus' mood brightened slightly. "I'm quite alright, Author. Just remembering some things," he said with a chuckle. "Now, what is it you called for, my friend?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Ugh, Albus--you told me to call." Author stuttered. "Are you sure you're alright? Don't need to see Madam Pomfrey now, do you?"

Dumbledore chuckled out his reply. "I'm quite alright, Author," he repeated. "Just fine. It slipped my mind is all. Oh, let's see," he paused in thought for a moment, not noticing the concerned look of Author's. "That's right! Harry wont be coming to the Burrow this summer. Now I know you and Molly had expressed your concern about him staying with his relatives," Dumbledore rushed on before Author could object. "I'll be picking him up in a weeks time myself. I'd like it if you would remind the children not to send Harry any owls. Death Eater activity has, unfortunately, increased as of recently. I've got Moody keeping an eye out on things for Harry."

"Ron will be rather upset. Are you going to bring him to--"

"No," Dumbledore quickly interrupted before the man could finish. "I'll let you know the details latter, Author. Tell the family I said hello."

"Alright, Albus. Take care."

In a swoosh of flames Author was gone and Dumbledore returned to his seat. He picked the crumbled letter up and read over it again.

I'm no longer sure of my survival.

It was short and curt. Just like the man who wrote in. Anyone else would assume Snape to be having a bought of paranoia. Dumbledore knew differently.

o . o . o.0.o . o . o

Alice Prince awoke to suffocating darkness. The remnants of a dream floating teasingly through her sleep fogged mind. As the haze lifted, she tried to figure out what had woke her. Relatively sure that it wasn't whatever she had dreamt about, she pushed the covers back and got out of bed.

She checked in on her brothers thinking that maybe one of them was up to something--even if they did have school in the morning.

First the twins room, whom were both fast asleep and nothing but their pet iguana and the color dyed fur-ball of a cat that acted more like a dog was awake. The cat, Dorian--who was originally ash grey and was now blended shades of blue and green--looked black in the lack of light. He was running back and forth playing with a small ball as he did every night. Alice immediately ruled either of the pets out as what had awoken her.

Moving on to the door on the other side of the hall, Alice looked in on Sean. She could just see his dark brown covered head sticking out from under the covers. His room was immaculate, floor spotless. Looking towards Sean again, seeing him huddled under the covers, reminded her of just how cold it tended to get in the house.

She quietly closed the door and made her way over to the last door down the hall. Slipping in and closing the door behind her she made her way across the room and into the full size bed that her sister--Arrakis--was sprawled upon. She was a heavy sleeper. Alice never woke her up, no matter how carelessly she crawled in over Arrakis. Alice wasn't sure how she could sleep like that; the most foreign sounds could wake her, and no matter how quiet the twins were they always succeeded in waking her when up to mischief during the night.

Finally drifting off to sleep, Alice rolled over and burrowed under the covers. Her last thought was of how Arrakis' feet could always be cold, no matter what the temperature outside was.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was floating.

He couldn't remember anything else-- nothing specific anyways-- except how nice it was to finally have the pain stop. Though, that was a lie; he knew the pain hadn't stopped. It had been the one constant in this strange new land he'd come to find himself in.

It hurt everywhere. He couldn't tell where his arms and legs were. He wasn't even sure where his head was. But he could tell that they were in pain. He knew his head was hurting--intense flashes of pain would permeate the darkness every time he would try to remember how he'd gotten there or think of a way out. Just as he knew that his arms and legs where in pain-- if still there at all-- when he tried to move what should have been his appendages.

Nothing.

He thought he'd fallen asleep. It was the only thing he could describe it as. Even though he couldn't tell the true passage of time, he knew that he was missing a moment in this world of darkness and pain. It wasn't the first and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. Not until he'd gone as far as he could into the abyss.

Every time he awoke from the feeling of nothing he could tell that he was getting closer to something. The floating sensation was disappearing, slowly becoming that of 'cold-warmth'. The sensation tickled a part of his conscious, his memory, and the more he tried to grasp at it, the farther he was pushing it away.

It was starting to itch. Almost like a fear of the dark and to stop floating. But the floating allowed him to feel pain. If he drifted closer to the centre of the abyss, if he stopped floating. . .

Deciding to leave that alone as he let the 'cold-warmth' wrap itself into a solid blanket around his being, he prepared himself to accept the promise of ending the pain. His cocoon shielded him from the concerned and pleading voices that existed outside of the dark. He was so tightly wrapped in his want of hiding from the pain that his own memories could not find him. He was simply content in finally being able to sleep without the pain.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Hard Truth

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Down town Seattle was having a rather cool and sunny week. That Monday seemed normal enough. From the time that the five siblings awoke, to the time they started their second week of school, it was rather pleasant. They went about their day as usual believing that nothing was amiss.

It was the youngest of the five that felt it first. She was in the middle of her music class and in her short seven years she'd never experienced such fear. She tensed up as a knock came from the classroom door. When it opened tears were sliding down her face. Her young friend looked at her, not knowing what was wrong. When the girl placed a hand on her shoulder she screamed.

"Miss Alice," her teacher called for her. "Please come to the front." She stood from her seat and walked up to the front rather reluctantly. Her classmates stared at her wondering what was going on, why there was a police officer standing in the door way and why Alice was crying.

The teacher led Alice out the class into the hall where the school councilor, the principle, Alice's aunt Pearl, and the officer awaited.

"Alice, honey," Pearl said as she kneeled to Alice's eye level.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She replied, voice flat and hollow. Pearl's eyes seemed to gloss over with unshed tears. Alice sighed. "Would be like him to go and get himself killed."

The adults could only look at the small girl and think that she was in denial, that everything would crash down on her soon enough. It was with that thought that they all looked away; unable to watch the child that they knew would be hurting enough much too soon.

"Just like mom." They heard her mutter, looking down the empty hall.

"Alice," the councilor, Rose Mierter, started.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

John Stimpleton was the basketball coach for JV boys' team at Washington High School. He watched as the starters played against the reserves. His eyes seemed to follow two of the boys in particular. They were racing down the court from the opposing team's goal to their own. They were passing the ball back and forth between the two of them; weaving in and out of the other players. Those who had lunch that period--including some who were just skipping--were glued to the practice game even though most of the spectators didn't even like it. The two boys who were so much alike just seemed to be able to read the other's mind when they were on the court; always seeming to know where the other was and would be so that intricate passing techniques were able to be pulled off between them.

Zachirus and Marchilen were the heart of their team. The twins specialized in their diversionary tactics. Their opponents were always too focused on trying to predict when the ball would be passed next so that they could intercept it. TThat's exactly what they planed, leaving their teammates open for passing to make the shot.

That Monday, mid-noon, that Practice wasn't going to end well.

"Good, good!" John hollered over the court. "A little less play, boys!" he said speaking to the forwards. "Alright, Marc--" he suddenly stopped, making Marchilen stop mid pass, leaving the boy behind him to run right into him, both falling in a heap on the floor.

Zachirus looked over at the coach, the other teammates following his gaze. John was in fierce whispering with both assistant Principles. That wasn't something they saw every day. Especially when there was a police officer involved. What was going on? Marchilen and Zachirus shared a look.

Just then, John turned to face the slowly gathering team. He had an odd look on his face, like he would rather not be there at the moment.

"Twins!" He called. His voice wasn't very load, just demanding, a bit desperate. But the gym was silent; his voice was carried and echoed around the building.

Marchilen and Zachirus trotted over to the captain and other 'guests'. They were nervous wrecks. Being called over after the coach had a talk with the assistant principles and a cop didn't bode well for them. Though they were sure it had nothing to do with any of the pranks they'd pulled since school had started back or any of the experiments they were working on both at home and school, the situation just had them feeling uneasy.

"Coach?" Marc asked once he and his twin brother reached the group of adults.

"We'd better move this somewhere a little more private," vice principle Kalwane Leonard suggested, a rather tense smile on his face.

Unlike with Alice, the boys were told everything that their aunt knew. It wasn't much. They weren't expecting much considering how secretive their father was. It was only Monday afternoon and it felt like he'd been gone a lot longer than he near three days of reality. They were use to him being gone at odd times and not coming back for weeks or months at a time. They understood what he had to do, even if he never talked to them about it. It was just a shock that in a few weeks time, perhaps months, he wouldn't be coming back.

"It's just--are you sure?" Marc asked looking dejected on the seattie in the Principle's office. His brother, Zack, was standing off tot he side, facing the single window. Their aunt Pearl nodded while petting Alice's silky black hair as she sat in her lap. "Where's Gen? And Sean?" he asked all of a sudden. Their older sister and younger brother hadn't been mentioned till then.

The officer--Jerryl, he thought--stepped from his post against the door. "Your sister and brother went home followed by my partner, officer Ryland. Just to keep an eye on them." He added at the odd look Marc gave him.

"You never said why you officers where needed." everyone nearly jumped, having forgotten Zack as he stood behind most of them, quiet and detached. "Not to be rude or anything." he sneered turning to face the others. Marc looked at him with an odd expression. He didn't understand what his brother was trying to do.

"No, that's alright, son. Our department received a letter, not unlike a living-will. Your father informed us that you and your brothers and sisters would come into a rather hefty inheritance upon his death. In the letter your father expressed some concern about this, that perhaps others would be . . . Interested. Although, the inheritance isn't accessible here in the states. That's another reason we're here. We're to escort you all to the airport once you're packed and see that you're on the plane. When you reach your destination there will be a couple of other officers to escort you. I'm not so sure why your father wanted all of this. But it's been paid for and legalized. I'm sorry for your loss."

Jerryl didn't seem all that sorry. Dad probably threatened him. Zack let a small smile play across his lips. He'd been tuning out the officer after that. He looked back up to after hearing his sister's name.

"--is at the house packing I suppose. The letter was to be opened only by her and I'm assuming that it had some set of instructions for you to fallow. You'll have to speak with her on that."

"What about school?" Marc asked looking to the principal.

"You're welcome to return at any time. Though I believe that you may be attending school in this new place--where exactly will they be going?" Joyce Myrilan asked looking to Officer Jerryl then to Pearl.

"England I believe. Your mom and dad were raised in England. Your dad has stayed even after moving you all here. Something . . . Work related." She smiled gently down at Alice who was dozing off in her lap. "I myself haven't been there, but your mum said it was nice." She looked at the boys, "I guess we should be getting home then." She stood, waking Alice so that she could walk herself. Officer Jerryl walked them to the car and followed them in his patrol car to the house.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After reading the contents of the letter that Severus had left for them, Gennavehn decided that a search of his room was in order. She'd been carefully riffling through his dresser draws and boxes in his closest for nearly an hour. It never ceased to amaze her how many things he could make fit in one place. The wonders of the magic that Severus never allowed them to use unless in practice and study.

Gennavehn had never understood why their father never told them anything about their world let alone visit it. They only just knew the bare essentials in case of emergencies that Severus was sure to never happen. Although she knew more than her brothers and sister, for her it was still not enough. Such as, she knew that the magical world was at war but didn't know why; she knew that Severus was a spy, but considering his snarly attitude and cynical personality she didn't know for which side he spied on. In fact she didn't know what sides there were and how many of them.

"He keeps us in the dark so much that we wont even know what we'll be walking into," she growled in frustration.

A light chuckle came from the doorway. "I didn't know that you were prone to talking to yourself, Genna," Sean had to muffle a laugh behind his fist at the infuriated look on Genna's face. It reminded him so much of their father. "Alright, just don't kill me. With my luck, your looks could kill."

"Not funny, book worm."

"That so cannot be the best you can come up with." he sauntered into the room with all the sex appeal of a Veela.

"You're way too young for that." She stood from where she had been squatting looking through the bottom drawer of the dresser. "Do you believe that he may have left something here, something that could tell us more about where he's from?"

"So that's why you're in here," Sean commented off handedly. "He wouldn't leave anything here, Gen. At least nothing that we would be able to find quite so easily."

"That's why you're here. Now come on. If nothings in here, there must be something in his lab. We're not allowed in unless he's here, and then only if he's teaching us something. I swear, dad is such a bastard at times."

They raced downstairs to Severus' private lab.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Meeting Thyme Enemy

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

They were standing before one of the few manor houses on the street. Shivers racked each of the five bodies and not from the weather. The house was cursed. Each of them could feel it in their bones. They were compelled to stay away from the house; they wanted to run as far as they could away from it. Nevertheless, as much as they wanted to they were equally compelled to stay.

It was easy for the oldest of the five to figure out why they felt as if they didn't want to leave just then. Their blood resided there. Even more disheartening, their aunt had walked into that house. It was cursed, and even worse, there were men dressed in black robes and weird white masks lurking around.

"We have to save her," the youngest boy broke the silence causing the others to turn to him.

The oldest shook her head. "Sean, no. The disillusion charm won't work if we cross into the house. We just have to hope that aunt Pearl knows what she's gotten herself into." She looked back to the house. "We're not supposed to be here, guys. The wards on the house must have activated after sensing our blood bond and warned those who father is fighting. If they catch any of us, it could mean his life."

"I don't want daddy to die," Alice sighed.

Sean bristled with that statement. "He's probably already dead, Al. Remember the monitors? They self destructed after glowing black. You know what that means. He was in "mortal peril", dead." He had said it with so much venom in his voice that it reminded the others of their father when he was exceptional emotional--truly angry and was ready to kill. The coldness in his voice sent shivers down his own spine.

"I'm going in after her," he ran up the stoop, barely acknowledging his sister's cry of protest. "Damn Gryffindor instincts," he muttered under his breath.

"Genna?" Zachirus called to his sister after feeling her tremble. "Wh--what if he's right? What--"

"No! Dad had a plan. And even if he didn't I do."

They were pulled from their musing as they heard a shrill cry. It barely registered to them that Alice was screaming. The disillusionment charm was strong enough to keep prying eyes and ears from realizing what was happening before them. That also meant that there would be no help for them or their brother.

Several cloaked figure rushed out of the house and disappeared. One of which carried the limp form of their brother Sean. Gennavehn gathered her siblings to her as they watched their aunt trapped behind an invisible shield as ominous green flames roared behind her.

There were more load cracks! as people apparated on the scene. Marchilen thought fast, taking a small vile of a clear solution out of his pocket. He threw it on the ground before them, giving them ample time to leave before their presence was fully noted.

"Good thinking, Marc. Now, come on. We have to find dad." Gennavehn held out her arm so that they could hold on to her as she concentrated on apparating to the alley behind the train station.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Albus Dumbledore walked into the room where the Order of the Phoenix held their meetings. He was soon followed by Madame Pomfrey, both sporting expressions of grave loss. Pomfrey took her seat without a word, not looking up at the questioning faces of her friends and colleagues. Dumbledore stood behind his usual chair, placed his hands on the back of it and looked as if he found the loosened threads of more interest and importance than the assembled group before him.

Molly Weasley cleared her throat before speaking on behalf of the others. "Albus," he started at his name, jerking his head to look at her--all of them-- as though he had been lost deep in thought. "Albus, why did you call us here? Has something happened? Death Eater attacks? Is it Harry?" The concern clearly shown in her voice.

Of course no one would think of the other man--yes, Dumbledore has recently realized that Harry was no longer a boy, had actually never been a boy. However, no, none of them would express immediate concern of the other, the one who risked just as much if not more than Harry Potter has and will for the war.

The thought never occurred to those assembled that one potions master, professor Severus Snape would be the cause for an emergency Order meeting for those he considered "close" to the professor.

He sighed. Severus' deeds should not go unrecognized. Though he would prefer it that way. "Professor Snape. . ." he trailed off, voice an odd mixture of pain and sadness that none present had ever heard from the Headmaster before.

"Severus is no longer with us." It was the most he could manage; and though his knees felt weak and legs seemed to want to give out at any moment, Albus remained standing. He knew that if he sat the grief of losing one of his "boys" would set in and render him useless. To stand strong for the Order he had to do this on his feet.

Moody slammed his fist on the table they sat around, causing it to vibrate. The sudden loud noise made several of the shocked members jump.

"I knew there was only a mater of time before that man--if he could even be considered a man--would turn tail and sell our secrets. Constant vigilance! And yet you let your guard down with him." His magical eye swirled as if looking for danger.

No one seemed to question his opinion and indeed where too focused on either his or her own thoughts or Moody, missing the cloud of rage that over took the Headmaster's features.

"How dare you," He seethed. "How dare any of you?" He raised his hand to stop their interruptions. "Severus has done far more than one person should have to do; he has done more than any of you could even imagine yourselves doing. He has laid his life on the line countless times for the cause and yet you sit here believe that he has gone against us!"

"But, Albus, I thought you said--" Remus interrupted.

"I said that he 'is no longer with us'. I did not say that he had gone to the dark."

"Then. . ." Molly trailed off, bringing her hand to stifle the gasp of denial as it dawned on her what Dumbledore truly meant by his words. "Is he. . ." She just couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Yes, Molly," Dumbledore answered looking on her with pity. "He has died." He sighed, resigned to wait as the ensued chaos clamed down.

"How did this happen?" Arthur Weasley asked while comforting his wife.

"I am not entirely sure. But one can assume that Valdemort finally realized who the spy in their ranks must be. He is in Sirius' old bedroom for the time being. Poppy, if you will." He continued to stand, knowing that they still needed him to be strong.

Poppy cleared her throat, still not looking up at them, for the first time since she entered the room. "I'm not entirely sure what all has been done to him. There are cuts and bruises all over him. I healed as much of the damage as I could.

"You see," her voice took on a dreamy quality. "There's something that seems to be obscuring his magical signature. That same something is preventing me from running a full analysis on his condition. I can't give you a full summation on what has happened to him until what ever they did," her voice cracked just slightly. "to him wares off." She lowered her head ever further. After all, Severus had been her toughest patient ever. That is, when he allowed her to look after him.

She cared for all those present. Cared even more for the ones that had been in her care on several occasions. It hurt her not being able to heal more than superficial injuries. No one had ever died on her before. Not even in the first war against the Dark Lord.

Remus walked over to Pomfrey and placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Poppy patted his hand as if to say thank you. Dumbledore let a ghost of a smile cross his face as he looked on the site of the two.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Invading the Order

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

They'd been walking for what felt like forever. Following Gennavehn was starting to prove fruitless. In her mad rush to find where her connecting thread that seemed to pull her to their father led them she nearly got them lost more than once. They had traveled down four streets that came to a dead end, and nearly turned into allies that were pitch black and ominous sounds made it to their ears.

Finally Gennavehn stopped to catch her breath. The twins were arguing over weather they should take over the lead. Seeming as Genna was only getting them lost and they were hungry, they thought it imperative that they find some place to stay and soon.

It was then as she turned to take note of their surroundings that she noticed a house. It looked to her like it was flickering in and out of sight, like it wasn't really there yet was. She walked towards it and immediately felt wards that put up a half hearted fight in repelling her.

Alice took notice. "Gen, where are you going? It's just another alley."

Gennavehn looked at her little sister then, wondering why she couldn't see it. Then she turned to the boys and asked, "Hey, Marc, Zack, what do you see?" She was pointing at where she believed the house was.

"An alley, dufuss." Zack replied rolling his eyes.

She smiled with delight. They had arrived. "It's not an alley."

"Then what is it?" Alice asked.

"It's where dad is." She turned back to the house, a new determination over coming her. "Come on, grab hold of me." She ordered the others. They reluctantly did so; Alice holding her right hand, Zack the left while Marc grabbed onto the back of her jacket.

The others felt the immediate strain the strong wards surrounding the house placed on repelling them. Gennavehn didn't seem to notice but took it slow just in case. Once they passed the outer barriers nothing was holding them back and the other three siblings looked onto the house for the first time, exhaling in "oohs" and "ahs".

They rushed to the front door practically beating on it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Order members all looked up as a knock came from the front door. There shouldn't have been anyone outside let alone knocking on the door. Upon realizing this, everyone in the room whipped out their wand expecting nothing but danger.

Alaster Moody was the only one who moved to answer it. He looked out the peep hole, then grunted in frustration when he only saw a group of kids.

Yanking the door open, hiding his wand behind it, he proceeded to yell at the kids but was cut off with screams from them instead.

Tonks and Shaklebolt appeared behind him. They took one look at the kids and lowered their wands.

"How did you get here?" Moody all but growled out. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be out wondering the streets? Be gone with ya!" He was about to close the door when one of the kids, a boy, stopped him from doing so.

"Listen here you monster. I want to see my fa--"

Gennavehn slapped her hand over her brother's mouth, stopping him from causing more trouble than necessary. If she assumed correctly, their father never told anyone about them.

She smiled pleasantly. Moody looked at them with suspension clearly shown on his face--his magical eye working over time. _Time for all of those drama lessons to come into play._ "What he means to say is that we're here on behalf of Severus Snape," she raked her brain for information. There was something about this place that gave her reason to believe that they shouldn't be able to enter.

"He said we'd be safe here." Alice spoke up, following her sister's lead. She didn't so much as flinch as Moody stared her down, both of his eyes intensely boring into her.

"Alaster," Molly growled as she made her way to the front door. "What are you doing frightening the poor dears." She stepped forward and smiled at them. "Come on in out of the cold." She gathered them through the door and walked them back to the meeting room, sure that Albus would want to talk with them.

Moody grumbled something along the lines of "never being too careful" as they walked down the hall. Tonks and Kingsley followed close behind.

"Well, what do we have here?" Dumbledore replied as the kids filed into the room led by Molly. His eyes were twinkling over time but everyone else's where on the children.

"Where's Severus Snape? I know he's here. We'd like to see him." Gennavehn answered stepping forward. She scanned all the faces, notices that some winced as she said her father's name. "Where is he?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry deary," answered Molly as she placed a comforting hand on Genna's shoulder. "Professor Snape has passed on." She said as gently as she could. Genna pulled away from her not saying anything; her face perfectly blank.

"We know that!" Zack said through clenched teeth. He wanted to see his father, dead or alive.

Dumbledore blanched. "How could you know that?" He asked.

"Maybe because we were told," Marc said sarcastically.

Moody growled at his indignant tone. "You speak to your elders with a bit more respect, boy."

"Don't talk to my brother like that!" Alice yelled at Moody.

Dumbledore ignored them for the time being. The older girl stayed eerily quiet as her siblings yelled back and forth at Moody and Molly trying to calm things down. She seemed deep in thought.

"You can't tell us what to do, you over grown goon. I want to see my father now!" Marc's face was red from all the yelling. He then gasped once realizing exactly what he said. He looked to his sister. "Genna,"

"Look what you've done now." She whispered.

Everyone in the room was shocked to say the least. Father? Severus? That was impossible. At least they believed it so. That's when they took a closer look at the kids. The boys could be triplets with the younger version of Snape. They looked just like him, except for the nose of course. They must have gotten that from their mother. And their hair was longer the Snape's--coming passed their shoulders--and not at all greasy. And their eyes, instead of the inky black of the potions professor's, one had a dark hazel while the other had a deep brown.

The youngest girl looked to be no more than eight and took on a worried look as she played her black, curly hair that was pulled into a pony tail. Her eyes were grey like rain clouds, her skin pale like Severus'.

The oldest was a wonderful mixture of Severus and what one could only assume was a mother of African heritage. She was pale, but not like Severus was pale; more of a pale tan of one who had gone years without the light of the sun. Her hair was a variation of soft and silky black curls to dry, brown curls that reached the middle of her back. From what Dumbledore could tell, the girl was a rather beautiful rendition of a female Severus. As with all the children she must have had her mother's nose. Genna, if Dumbledore heard correctly, had her father's--he could get use to knowing that Severus was father--eyes; the same exact inky-black pools that if were surrounded by the right facial expression would reduce any man to standing jelly. He had no doubt that the girl could pull of a trade-mark Snape scowl and sneer.

Everyone erupted with questions at the same time.

"Quiet!" came Dumbledore's soft yet demanding voice filled with power that commanded the mass of chaos to end. "I know that we all have questions. Perhaps we shall leave it 'till morning," he looked at each of them over his half moon glasses. Some looked as if they wished to contradict his verdict but held their tongues. He looked questioningly to Molly and Auther. "Molly, dear, would you and Auther be willing to stay the night? You can retrieve the children tomorrow before dinner." Of course, being Dumbledore, the old coot wouldn't just ask them to stay. Subtle orders that produced his desired ends were his forte.

Molly sighed and braved a smile. "Yes. Yes, of course, we'll stay. Bill is home for a while. We'll just send message for the kids and stop in right quick so they can have some breakfast and lunch tomorrow. She and Auther walked out of the room.

Dumbledore smiled, though it barely reached his eyes. "Everyone is welcomed to return tomorrow, for lunch. I'm sure we can get our answers then." He nodded to those left in the room, his way of dismissing them.

The only ones left in the room were Dumbledore--still standing, though he was quickly tiring of holding his front--Remus, the man seemed to have an odd, contemplative look on his face--he appeared to be staring at the oldest girl, Genna; the other three siblings and the still distraught Pomfrey.

"Remus," the man in question nearly jumped, whipping his head around in such a way that looked very painful. He smiled distractedly. "Remus, would you please show our young guests to some rooms?" Dumbledore was feeling old all of a sudden and it was starting to show. "Molly and Auther should be back soon. We should all retire for the night."

"Of course, Albus--"

"No! We want to see our father now." Zack said quietly.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "In the morning after breakfast, I promise. But for now, please try to sleep." He straightened and walked passed them out of the room, leaving the others to stare behind him.

"Alright then," smiled Remus as he clasped his hands together before him. "Goodnight, Poppy. I'm sure everything will work out in the end." He then looked to the four children, "Shall we?"

Genna turned from the wolf's golden gaze. Since they walked into the room she could feel his eyes on her. _What a bunch of freaks_. She thought. "Fine. Show me our father--so that we know he's actually here--then we'll sleep." She could see her brothers and sister visibly relaxed at her reply.

"That should be fine. Follow me, then." Remus let his gaze linger on the girl for another moment or so before walking out the room and up the stairs. He approached the third door on the right, looked behind him to see Genna stepping around her siblings. They all seemed eager to see Severus. The younger ones looked reluctant to have only their sister go in, but were willing to trust that they would get to see him in the morning.

Lupin opened the door. He stood slightly to the side to let Gennavehn enter. She stepped into the room and casual glanced around. Lupin noticed that her eyes didn't immediately find Severus. It was something that she had been taught since she was little; to always be aware of her surroundings upon entering a room. It was how she noticed that there was only one small window above a long dresser against the far wall and an amour to the right. There wasn't enough light in the room to make out any colors but they all appeared to be dark since they blended well with the shadows.

After a moment of silence and the sound of Lupin clearing his throat did Gennavehn take another step towards the bed that sat against the left wall. Remus was right behind her, not having seen Severus either. He heard a sharp intake of breath as Genna stepped back into him. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her from the sight of the deathly pale and still Severus. Remus was sure that he was dead. Even with his heightened senses from being infected with the curse of a werewolf he couldn't hear a heart beat or the slightest breath. He could be wrong, but he didn't want to think along those lines. Poppy was the best and she wouldn't be wrong about anything along the line of life and death. He trusted her diagnosis.

Lupin pointed to two doors after closing the one that Severus lay behind. "Those shall be your rooms, for now. Dumbledore is in the first door on the left and I'll be right there across from your rooms." He crossed to the door between Severus' room and Dumbledoors. As if he'd just thought of something he turned to face them. "I'm sorry, but, what are your names? I'm Remus Lupin by the way. You can call me Remus." He smiled at them, though he didn't really seem to reach his eyes.

Genna was eyeing him warily. She didn't know what it was, but he seemed to have a rather "healthy" interest in her. "Gennavehn. Genna." She said non-committally. "Zachirus, Marchilen, and Alice." She said pointing to them in turn.

"You're forgetting Se--" Genna turned and gave Zack a glare that shut him up quickly.

"Our nicknames. Is what he meant." Marc supplied.

Lupin didn't buy it and he didn't feel up to disguising that he knew they were hiding something.

"I'm Marc, and the big mouth over there is my younger twin Zack." he gave his brother a pointed glare worthy of a Snape only for it to quickly diminished as Zack let out a growl deep in his throat. There wouldn't be any peaceful sleep between the two. This only succeeded in making Lupin chuckle with the sibling rivalry. Whatever they were hiding looked as if it could wait till morning.

They seem close. Thought Remus. He frowned at the thought that Severus could have raised, let alone bred, such children. He wasn't sure how Snape had done it, but hoped to get the answers from them tomorrow.

"Goodnight," he smiled again with a slight nod and entered his room, quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Interrogating Snapes

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gennavehn had just awaken from a strange dream that was fleeing her mind as the memories that night made their way to her sleep addled brain. She put a hand to her forehead, squinting from the bright sun light that streamed in through the window. Oh, how I hate mornings. She longed for her room back home so that she could just roll back over and forget that the sun had even rose. She missed her room, one that only saw the light of sunsets. The best time of day in her opinion.

She uncovered her eyes to see if her sister was awake yet or if she would have the rare opportunity of waking her. They'd shared the room closest to the stairs while the boys slept in the other one. She blinked her eyes a few times to clear the blur.

Bolting up right Genna nearly fell out of the bed. Alice wasn't there. But if Alice had woke before her then she would have woken Genna before doing anything else. It was their routine. She started to get out of the bed in a mad rush when something snuggled up against her leg. She let out a yelp and leapt up, falling out of the bed with one leg still tangled in the sheets.

She rolled onto her back as someone opened the door. "Genna," She looked at the door to see Zack looking haggard and bemused. She growled at him only to receive laughter.

She kicked the bed, while trying to untangle her leg. Something started to pull the covers sending Genna scurrying back. More laughter filled the doorway as Zack was joined by Marc. She stared at the bed. Suddenly a head of curly hair popped from under the covers over the side of the bed.

"Alice!" Genna screeched and kicked the mattress again. The young girl just gave her big sister a half hearted glare that lost all effect as she yawned.

Anything else that would have been said was interrupted by the sound Molly Weasley yelling up the stairs for breakfast. They all jumped up and ran down the stairs, eager for a meal after going nearly half a day without any.

"Ah. There you are, dears," Molly cheered as they descended the stairs. "Right this way. And after you've been properly fed we'll get you out of those clothes. You poor dears must be dying for a change and good wash." She shuffled them off to the kitchen where their breakfast awaited under warming charms.

Breakfast was a rather quiet affair. The siblings were ready to see their father after eating. Molly was just done banishing their plates to the sink when Dumbledore entered. The sullen look on his face disappeared into a soft smile with the twinkle full blown in his eyes at the sight of the young Snapes.

"I trust your meal was enjoyable," he received curt nods from the lot. "Ah, well then, introductions are in order. I am Albus Dumbledore, you may call me Albus. I am both the boss and trusted friend of your father's. I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry where your father works." He paused, still smiling, to see if they would introduce themselves.

Genna watched Albus with a calculated look that would have done Severus proud. No matter how many reasons he could give her to trust him she would still be cautious and wary of him. Just like Severus. He taught them well, Dumbledore thought as his gaze traveled to the other three.

"Genna." It was all she said. Genna kept an eye on him, not feeling the need to say anything more. She could feel the raw power that Dumbledore held. He was so much stronger than her father and she wasn't use to being before anyone with hat kind of power. Even though she knew it was rather childish to still think of her father as the strongest man alive, she couldn't help it. He's dead, Genna, her inner-voice was correcting. That brought her back to the fact that her father, Severus Snape, was lying a floor above her well and truly dead. He couldn't have been the strongest man alive--his death and the power rolling off of Dumbledore was proof of that.

Dumbledore turned from peering at the girl from over his half moon spectacles and looked at the other children in turn. After collecting their names he took them to see their father as promised.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try really hard to finish this story this year, but don't hold your breath. I never thought this would happen to a story I've worked on for nearly 4 years. But with the release of the seventh book and most of my assumptions confirmed about certain characters, the story needed to be re-written. But then I found it troubling to do since I'd come up with a few of my own characters and didn't want to kill them off or completely write them out, so here I am, yet again re-writing my precious story. Only thing is, it can't be posted here. So I'm going to be nice and post the older version, which is utter crap and more than a little disjointed, and post the re-write in a new story under the name **Broken Pedestal**. Now I warn you that _Broken Pedestal_ is completely different from _this_ and yet this will have some spoilers for _Broken Pedestal_. Read at your own risk, though I suggest waiting for the re-write.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_.

Now this next part is different from the rest. It's longer and the end isn't finished. It could almost be a stnd-alone. But it's part of this story so I've gone ahead and posted it here.

* * *

Seven dark clad figures walked through the gates to Hogwarts. They were all wearing black cloaks with large hoods that were pulled over their heads, hiding their faces. Anyone watching could see that the cloaks were torn and smudged with dirt and _other _things.

But no one was watching.

They made their way across the lawn to the front doors of Hogwarts. It was late in the afternoon and the heavy rain made it rather impossible for anyone to see. They were using a warming charm to keep from freezing in the late November rain and a nifty revised version of the portego shield as an umbrella to stay from being drenched by the rain.

The group swiftly covered the yards to the great doors. The two in the front quickly opened the door and ushered the other five members in. They were so busy canceling the charms on themselves and closing the heavy front doors that it nearly took them by surprise when several wand armed men and women surrounded them.

Aurors.

The slowly shifted so that the shorter five were behind the first two, backs against the closed double doors. Only the two taller members of the seven had their wands drawn; held against their thigh,pointed down, elbow bent for swift and easy maneuvering.

Three people—a man, no a boy on the verge of becoming a man, flanked by a bushy haired female and red haired male—stepped into the semi circle of Aurors. They had their wands pointed at the intruders as well.

The dark haired boy with messy hair, green eyes behind glasses and lightening bolt scar took another step forward and demanded in a calm, powerful voice. "Put down your wands," he said. Ever since he returned from his search of Voldemort's last Horcrux he'd found a castle full of witches and wizards that looked for him to take command of things. And with the weight of the world he did.

The two front figures of the group did as they were bid, being ever careful to keep their faces hidden and an eye on their surroundings.

"You five as well," Ron Weasley said gesturing to the others. Only one made a move; stepping forward and placing their wand next to the other two. The person didn't step back. After waiting a moment and the last four didn't make a move Ron and Harry made a threatening move closer.

One of the original front men stepped forward holding up two bandaged hands. He cleared his throat, "They do not posses a wand." He dropped his arms as confusion overcame the three before them and gasps could be heard from the others. He was sure they knew who he was. How could they not? He'd taught more than a few of them and worked along some others. It neither surprised nor concerned him when the anger made itself known.

"Snape," Harry grounded out through clenched teeth. Severus didn't react at the hatred clearly shown in the way his name was spat. "Remove your hood." As Severus did so, he kept his eye on Harry so that he could see clearly the reaction he was guaranteed to gain.

Severus Snape had changed quite a lot since they'd last set eyes on him. The first change they'd noticed was his hair; it was inches longer, coming past his shoulders in soft waves and was no longer greasy in either look nor texture. Though his eyes were the same never ending pool of black and darkness they seemed aged and softer. His lips were the same thin lined indifference and nose still hooked. But the man had changed a great deal; they could all see, they could _feel_ it. Severus Snape wasn't the same man that left them those months ago after killing Dumbledore.

"Why have you and your little Death Eater friends come? What do you want?" Hermione Granger was the first to recover, always one to be on her toes. Others mumbled their questions as well.

"I can assure you that we are not Death Eaters," came the calm, airy reply so suddenly that it caught them all off guard. It took a moment for them to realize that it wasn't Severus who spoke, but the person on his left. Severus watched as yet again confusion and disbelief overcame the features of those surrounding them.

None of them ever thought they'd hear that voice again; one that held joy and infinite wisdom. They thought him dead, had in fact buried him on the very grounds of the school turned refuge.

"Show yourself," growled out Moody, barely restraining himself from cursing the group into oblivion. Dumbledore did as he was told and as his hood lifted from his white haired head they saw the same enigmatic smile the old coot had always worn through his beard. His twinkling blue eyes were dimmed somewhat, but still shown brightly behind his half moon glasses.

He hadn't changed.

Half those present gasped out a "Dumbledore" or an "Albus" as the other half a "Professor". They were all so confused. He was dead, they knew Dumbledore was dead. Harry himself had watched as the old man was murdered with the _killing curse_ right before his very eyes. So how was he standing there before him looking all as if the last five months never took place?

Several possibilities passed through the minds of the gathered. Most were in denial and claimed that it was polyjuice potion. A few of the others wanted to believe that it truly was him.

Minerva Macgonagall being one of the optimists spoke first. "Albus? H—How?" She asked in wonder as she stepped forward.

"Watch it now," exclaimed Moody. "Its not really 'em. He could be using polyjuice—or something equally as potent. He is with the potions master now." They knew Moody had a point. How could they be sure that it was Dumbledore when they remembered so clearly the lifeless body that had been left behind that regretful day in June?

"Then perhaps you should ask me something. Something only I would know," he suggested, staring intently at Harry.

Potter flinched at the leveled gaze, remembering how that man could almost always get a confession out of him, if not only make him feel guilty about lying. "Alright then," he said after a moment.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Moody mumbled.

"What happened at the end of my 5th year?"

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "After telling you the prophecy in it's entirety you were quite angry with me and proceeded to destroy anything with in your reach. You really did a number on my office, my dear boy." he chuckled.

Harry very nearly smiled, about to declare that the man was really Dumbledore. He knew what the prophecy said and believed it to be his destiny to destroy Voldemort, but the responsibility of saving so many people was beginning to weigh heavily on him. He just wished for his mentor/professor to be back, just so that he could be sure that he wasn't the only one protecting the world.

Then both Ron and Hermione nudged him. "That may be too easy, Harry," Hermione suggested. "Anyone could have figured that out. We didn't exactly keep that a secret."

Harry nodded. "You're right."

"Another one?" Dumbledore smiled.

After a moment of thinking, and everyone becoming increasingly tired of holding their wands at the ready, Harry finally found something personal to ask the old man. "What happened when I was nine?"

The question caught more than a few off guard. Ron and Hermione especially; non of them had ever heard about Harry's childhood before Hogwarts other than how _terrible_ his relatives were to him.

"I remember the night you came to me. It was during your second year. With all of the commotion going on with the chamber of secrets you'd begun to have nightmares of not only Voldemort, but of your life with the Dursleys as well. This particular memory had been brought on by Professor Lockheart removing the bones in your arm. You told me of how one day your cousin and his friends were picking on you and they'd decided to have fun by pushing you down the school stairs. You broke both your arm and leg and it was the first time your Aunt and Uncle took you the Hospital to receive medical attention. You were subsequently punished for 'causing them trouble' by—"

"It's really you," Harry interrupted in awe. He'd grown increasingly uncomfortable through the retelling of that memory. He'd never been comfortable with letting anyone know anything about his time with the Dursleys.

"How is this possible?" Minerva asked again.

Dumbledore gently smiled at them, all of them. "I will tell all in due time."

The three wands were summoned back by their owners. As Severus was putting his away in his voluminous robes he sneered at Moody, looking all the bit of his old self.

"Who are the others," Hermione asked still suspicious of the four cloaked figures.

"They do not concern you," Severus stated dryly. "They and I will not be staying," they all turned to look at him. "I've come for one purpose," he turned his piercing gaze on Moody. "Where is the girl?"

Moody's eyes immediately lightened at the mention of his rescued prey. The others wondered why Snape would make such a dangerous journey for a little girl. "What do 'ya want with the girl, Snape?"

"She belongs with me," he stated evenly as he narrowed his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He needed to get Alice back before the Death Eaters realized their movements. He had no wish to become stuck there with people who could care less about him. Even with Dumbledore alive and well they would all still view him as a cold blooded, murdering, Death Eater.

Moody laughed. "What could make such an innocent girl belong to you?" The question was spat with disgust.

Dumbledore moved between the two men, pointedly blocking any unwarranted confrontation. "Alastor, please, show us to the girl." Moody simply huffed out a 'fine' and started toward the hospital wing. The others took the brief pause to hug and welcome back Dumbledore from the dead. He was bombarded with so many questions at once that he could only laugh lightly at their enthusiasm and simply asked them to wait until they were out of the entrance hall.

The group walked in through the middle doors of the Great Hall. Dumbledore was surrounded on either side with happily chattering companions. They were all still in shock that he was really alive. On either side was Minerva and Harry, followed by Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley; Flitwick and several order members and aurors followed behind Severus and his still shrouded children.

As the group spread out to take up the reserved places at one of the long tables—the great hall having not been changed for the need of having some stability in this war—Severus noticed the room's occupants. The rest of the Weasley clan was there; Molly, Arther, Bill (and Fleur next to him), Charlie (and what looked to be a couple of his friends), Percy (which Severus found to be increasingly intriguing—the boy seemed cowed, less obnoxious), the twins George and Fred (Severus never being one to tell them apart), and lastly Ginny.

Severus was considering turning around and leaving the sea of redheads. There were just too many for his liking. He watched as they gave him a passing glance, everyone only having eyes for Dumbledore. It wasn't until the exclaimed "Dumbledore!" that he'd realized that the werewolf was even there. The man seemed to have been the only one that changed for the worst. He was even more haggard and shaggy than before, gray hairs turning nearly as white as Albus' hair.

The rest of the Order of the Phoenix members and the professors joined Lupin and the Weasleys in surrounding Dumbledore. They were asking questions all at once and nearly stepping on each other just to touch or even hug the old man. Suffice it to say that they were creating more than enough noise to wake the dead.

Severus had to suppress a groan, not having missed a minuet of this _chaos_ when he'd fled the castle. He wasn't sad to admit that he wouldn't miss it now when he gathered his remaining child and left once again.

"Please, please. Calm yourselves," he yelled above the din. "I have to breath if you want me to stay in the world of the living." He chuckled, bringing nevus laughs from the assembled group. "Everyone, sit, sit. There is much for me to answer to and I'd much rather do it off my feet. I'm not as young as I use to be and the journey here has been very long for one as old as I." He winked at his cloaked traveling companions as he herad one of them scoff.

They all took up their seats, making room in the middle for Dumbledore, Severus, and the remaining five cloaked figures. As everyone was getting settled and the chatter dieing down Ron seemed to have thought of something. He looked at Severus sideways from across the table.

"Whatever happened to Malfoy?" he murmured out loud.

No one noticed as one of the cloaked figures removed their hood until he drawled out his reply; "I'm alive and well, weasel," this caused more than a few of the gathered to jump at his voice.

"Malfoy," Ron stated through clenched teeth.

Draco ignored him for now and gave a curt nod to Harry, "Potter." Harry simply nodded back. Other than teasing Ron, Draco wasn't making any trouble. Besides, he was with Dumbledore, so perhaps he was reformed. Draco let one of his old smirks cross his face. "I never wanted a part in this war. Least of all that of a Death Eater 'in training'. Severus—being my godfather and all—tried to keep me, and many of the other Slytherins out of it. From the beginning, Weasley, I've been acting. Well, mostly anyway. Unlike my father I have no interest in pledging my loyalty and groveling at the feet of a madman."

Draco kept his head high and eye contact with Harry throughout his entire speech. He felt that it was only Harry that he had to convince. Everyone else be damned. "Besides, I'd much rather have everyone bowing down to me."

The gathering wasn't left much time to think over what Draco had said; his very near declaration to the side of light. . .

One of the middle doors to the opened with a bang, followed by the clank of Moody's fake leg on the stone floor and his huffing and grumbling. More than a few curses and swears could be heard being mumbled under his breath.

Severus stood in one swift motion as he eyed the petite, black haired, tanned skin girl that Moody ushered in before him. "Alice," Severus breathed. Many of those present wondered what connection the girl had to Severus. They'd never seen or heard anything of the like from him. Was he actually expressing his concern for the girl's well-being?

He took a few steps closer to the doors as the girl launched herself into his arms. He held her close and breathed in her scent. He gave her one last lingering squeeze before placing her on her feet. He was on his knees, seeming to be checking her over for injuries. "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked with a fatherly concern that was uncharacteristic of him. Alice nodded. Severus let out a sigh of relief before morphing back into his usual self. "You _will_ listen to everything I tell you or you shall be bonded to me for the remainder of the time." The girl paled at that which merely made Severus smirk.

He almost smiled, glad that he had the last of his offspring back with him before he caught himself. He turned and eyed those that were either staring openly in shock at his action or covering their smiles with a hand.

"Albus," he started. "I do not wish to stay any longer. It will become unsafe for us to make the rest of our journey if we do not leave soon." He had a hand placed possessively on Alice's shoulder. Standing so close together made several of the onlookers realize how much alike the two looked. Many of them started to believe that young Alice was related to Severus in some way. How close they were to the truth.

Minerva moved to stand next to Dumbledore, for her friend. She'd watched Severus grow from a small, frightened child of 11 years to the calm and collected man that stood before her now. "Why must you leave, Severus? There's no place safer than Hogwarts." a few of the others nodded in agreement.

"They do not belong here, Minerva," he stated gesturing to his four cloaked children. "I do not wish to involve them anymore than they already are. Their safety is my main concern."

"Who are they anyway?" Someone asked again. It sounded like one of the many Weasley males to Severus.

He was starting to get agitated to his already annoyance. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying to calm himself before he went on a Weasley murdering rampage. "You do not need to know who they are," he said then turned to Dumbledore, "Albus, we are leaving." It was his curt way of saying goodbye.

The four cloaked people stood, making their way to Severus. But Severus hadn't made a move to leave yet. He turned a questioning glare to Draco. "Draco, we must leave now." As he was about to turn and make way to leave Draco's soft reply reached his ears.

"No," Draco looked Severus in the eye, highly aware that every-one's eyes had turned to him. "I don't want to continue running. There is no point!" he exclaimed. "I've been running my entire life and I think it's time that I've stopped. I want to stay here; I want to fight."

"I made a promise, Draco, an Oath. I cannot and will not leave without you." Severus was more than vehement about it. Even without the deal he'd made with Narcissa Malfoy he couldn't leave his godson behind. He'd spent more time with Draco than he'd spent with his own flesh and blood. In his mind he had not five children but six. No matter how preposterous it was for him to have even one.

"I guess it's settled then," Dumbledore cheered as he clapped his hands together. "Severus and his--'guests' shall be staying."

Severus turned an icy glare on Dumbledore and thought he heard Ron Weasley whisper to his companions that they were better off without the "bloody snake". Some of them nodded in agreement. Others just glanced with concerned eyes towards Severus and his well hidden children.

"Dumbledore," he hissed through clenched teeth, "They cannot be a part of this!" He was growling now, hoping against hope that Draco would get out of that seat, come to his _bloody_ senses, and leave with them. He wasn't leaving the young Malfoy behind and was not going to endanger his children any longer than necessary. He wanted to get them away from all of this--the war with Voldemort--as soon as possible.

"You know why they must leave. They will be helpless in this war. They are not capable of defending themselves as we are."

Those still listening were quite confused and shushed the ones quietly talking amongst themselves. Remus was beginning to smell the fear rolling off Snape. If he thought that wasn't strange, then being able to scent the anger rising on the cloaked figures was. Snape's concern for their well-being was making them mad.

Everyone watched as one of the shorter cloaked persons stalked over to stand before Snape. He jerked his attention from Dumbledore. They watched as Snape's carefully closed indifference melted into visible anger. Whatever the cloaked figure saying, and it indeed looked as if they were talking, was making Snape angry as well.

"No!" he suddenly roared.

"Severus," Dumbledore quietly, though firmly, interjected. "She has a point. Stay, we can send for your nephews. We have time before the floos are closed for the night." Someone in the background _"and what point would that be?"_ He simply smiled, wondering when they would figure it out.

He didn't like it. Severus wasn't bothered one bit by showing just how much he didn't like the situation. They all wanted to stay. Even Albus was reluctant to let him go. He really didn't want to stay, but even he couldn't deny the fact that even if Voldemort attacked, Hogwarts would still be the safest place to be. Especially since they were there already. Just as Albus suggested, he could simply floo his nephews and have them activate one of several secret portkeys he had around the house in Utah that would bring them directly to Hogwarts or the Shrieking Shack.

With his head bowed, Severus massaged between his eyes groaning as he felt a headache coming on strong. _The sentimentality for the brats will be the death of me._ He though wryly. He looked up to the ceiling, the rain was still coming down but not nearly as strong as when they had first arrived. More than a few were confused by his use of the Rosary's Cross (1) (making the sign of the cross over the body). Though he wasn't religious it was moments like this when he knew for sure that some higher power was at work toying with his life and having a laugh at the expense of his torture.

He turned to Dumbledore, one arm crossed over his chest and the other balled into a fist in front of him. "Fine," he growled out, mouth closing into a thin line. It was classic Severus and seemed to ease a few minds.

* * *

"What's that he's using?" Harry asked, leaning forward on the table to see around Hermione and others.

"Odd colour for floo powder." Ron commented looking over Harry's head.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Hermione sounded scandalized at their clear show of ignorance. Although, she could forgive Harry as he hadn't grown up in the wizarding world--though Ron on the other hand, it was inexcusable. "He's using international floo powder. He must be connecting with a foreign network, one that's not part of the European Ministry convention(?)."

"The what?" Harry and Ron asked at the same time.

"I bet it's American," Bill Spoke up on the other side of Draco. "They're the only ones who work internationally."

"They don't have very many schools there. I hear most of the students are enrolled in one of the smaller wizarding schools in Greece and Rome. But I didn't know Snape had any family, let alone American nephews." concluded Charlie beside Hermione.

Ron scoffed. "I think it's safe to say that no one knew that. Who would want to be in the git's family anyway?"

"Ron!" This from Mrs. Weasley whom was sitting next to Athur and the twins opposite Charlie and friends.

Severus ignored the squabbling bunch and the feel of eyes on his back. He was very well aware that the other's where watching him. He couldn't worry about that now. He had to make sure he got through to his nephews in time.

"Rossalin in Tuscany." He said once the resounding ding let him know it was time to say his access code. He then called out his destination, "Prince Manor,"

It was just loud enough for some of the others to hear.

"Prince? Like in Ellain(?) Prince? The one from the book last year?" Ginny looked up curiously.

"I guess. I mean, we did find out that it was his book." Answered Harry.

"(Nephew 1--and Nephew 2)"

Hey look, uncle Sev's head in floating the fire place.

Shut up......2......Well see what it is he wants.

Hey uncle, what's up?

I need you to get your brother and your emergency bags. Go to my bedroom and take the photo off the dresser and the trunk at the end of the bed...

What do we do with them

I was getting to that...Make sure you're holding on to everything and each other. Once you are ready, say 'Hogwarts'. Now quickly, before you run out of time!

Severus pulled his head back just in time. The floo connection had been shut down for the night.

"They are on their way. Hopefully they wont forget anything." None could miss the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I just can't believe this, Albus," spoke Minerva. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that it's really you. After all these months, Albus. Why now? What happened?" It was safe to say that it was the million galleon question.

* * *

"#1!! We weren't expecting any guests were we?"

"What are you talking about? Forget the bags, I've got them."

"Well, see, there's some guys in black and masks--you know, the ones that look like Uncle Sev and KKK..."

"You mean those zombie munchers?"

"Yeah. They're marching up the drive!"

"What!"

* * *

END chapter

* * *

You've reached the end of some of my worst writing ever. Everything featured in this (story?) will appear in some way in **_Broken Pedestal_**.

* * *

**Reiteration:** This is a posting of the early versions of _Broken Pedestal_. I have no intention of continuing posting under this story after the last chapter is up. As such, this version of the story wont stay posted on this site for very long, yet since it was added to several communities and on alerts I thought to give readers a preview - if you will - to let them know I have not, nor will I, abandon this story. Check out for _Broken Pedestal _instead_._


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